


Hmm.

by ryrosbitch



Category: Pete Wentz/Mark Hoppus
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:25:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryrosbitch/pseuds/ryrosbitch





	Hmm.

There's a few times on tour when people question nothing that you do.  One of these times is the hours between three and five in the morning.  Nothing that happens during these hours is repeated or questioned, ever.  Another time is when you have a day off.  What you decide to do on your day off is your business and only your busy and no one ever questions what you are doing.  Well, almost no one ever questions you. 

Being on tour with Blink 182 was almost like a dream to the guys in Fall Out Boy, but for Pete there were moments that were becoming more like a nightmare.  The anxiety that came with never knowing what Mark would do next kept Pete up at night.  That and every other thing that was always going through his mind.  The comfort of 5:30 in the morning when all you can hear is snoring and the sound of the bus tires on the ground is the closest thing to home that Pete has felt in years.    Pete was always up early, so no one really noticed his overwhelming excitement at finally having a day off.  A day where he could go do whatever he wanted and hopefully not have to see anyone involved with the tour at all.  

Day off breakfasts had become a tradition for the guys and Pete found himself smashed in the back corner of a booth at IHOP next to Mark and across from Joe.  He kept nervously looking down at his phone and bouncing his leg quietly under the table. 

"Um, you meeting someone off Craigslist or what dude?" Mark raised an eyebrow glancing at Pete and then laughing slightly. 

Pete rolled his eyes, lifting a hip to shove his phone into his back pocket, "Shut the fuck up." He quipped glancing over at Mark and then locking eyes with Joe giving him an exaggerated eye roll.  

Mark leaned to throw an arm around Pete, curling his lips up into a smile, "What exactly is it that you're planning to do today, Wentz?" 

Pete scrunched his nose turning slightly to Mark and giving him an unamused smile, "I'm going to the mall. I'm getting the fuck away from you guys for the day." He crossed his arms leaning back in the booth as his food was sat in front of him. 

"That's funny, I was going to do that too. We should just go together. We can hang out." Mark smirked, picking up a piece of toast and taking a bite of it. 

"Yeah, how about just no. I don't really need a chaperone, old man." Pete snickered, taking big bites of his pancakes and leaning towards the wall bobbing his head to the beat of whatever was happening inside his brain. 

Breakfast turned out to be rather uneventful. Tom knocked a glass of orange juice all over Andy and Patrick was less than impressed with everything happening, but neither of those things were out of the ordinary. 

Pete slipped out of the IHOP as quick as he could, trying to ditch the other guys and heading to the mall.  He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, locking and unlocking it as if it were going to give him all the answers he needed.  

Finding his way into a store, Pete continuously looked over his shoulder, swallowing hard and twisting his fingers together in front of him, he found himself standing in front of a small, plaid skirt. He was sure there would be a hole in his lip sooner or later from the pressure his teeth were putting on it.  Pete slowly reached his hand out to touch the material, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger.  The slap of the hand on Pete's back was enough to give him a heart attack and he jumped, crashing his shoulder into the rack and reaching up to rub it softly before turning to look up at Mark grinning down at him. 

"Is that for your girlfriend?" Mark asked curiously, eyeing the skirt and then looking back down at Pete.  Mark couldn't help but think Pete was the weirdest kid he had ever met.  Nothing really made sense about him, but for some reason, that just made him want to know more. 

"Yeah. No. Whatever. Leave me alone alright?" Pete stumbled over his words taking a few steps back and rubbing his shoulder carefully. 

Mark tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow and looking back at Pete, "It isn't a huge deal to shop for your.... oh." He stopped himself quickly putting things together in his head, "Hey man, I will.. I will just catch up with you later alright? Have a good day though." He nodded quickly, taking a few steps back and turning to walk out of the store. 

Pete shut down for the next few weeks.  The only person he spoke to was Patrick and he avoided every possible interaction with anyone.  No one questioned him when he walked straight off stage and went to the bus and didn't look up.  "That's just Pete," Patrick explained for him as Pete dashed off the stage heading straight to the bus.  He settled into his bunk, tucking headphones over his years and furiously typing on his laptop.  The only good thing that might come of all this is a whole bunch of new lyrics.  

The bus stayed quiet for a few hours, and Pete pulled his headphones down when he heard footsteps outside of his bunk, "Patrick?" He asked weakly, surprised at the sound of his own voice. 

The footsteps continued speechlessly and Pete shifted a little in his bunk.  Maybe it was one of the other guys, he thought, pulling his headphones back over his ears and trying to focus on the music.  

Pete looked down at his vibrating cell phone and the text message "Get the fuck out of your bed you fucking loser." He rolled his eyes looking at the phone for a minute and then turning it off, flipping it over on his bunk and shutting his laptop.  Who the fuck was Mark to think that he could just tell him what to do? Bullshit. 

Pete slipped out of his bunk, quickly heading straight to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of water, opening it and taking a long drink. "Guys?" He called, looking back through the silent bus, wondering where everyone was. 

"Back here, Princess." Mark replied, the sound of his smirk in his words. 

Pete felt his hand clench into a fist. What the fuck was he doing here? On HIS bus? He sat his water bottle down carefully, making his way to the back of the bus where Mark was sitting in the middle of the couch with a bag next to him, "How about you get the fuck off of my bus?" He pressed his lips together looking down at Mark sitting on the couch. 

"Seriously? Fuck you. You can't make me do anything." Mark said, picking the bag up and throwing it at Pete, hitting him square in the chest. "Go put that on." He crossed his arms over his chest carefully keeping his eyes locked on Pete's.

Pete bent down to pick up the bag, looking into it and back up at Mark, swallowing hard and feeling all the color drain from his face. "Fuck you. It isn't like that." He said quickly, keeping his fingers tight around the bag. 

"Don't be a dick Pete. Just fucking do it. I'm not going to make fun of you or anything.  And no one is staying here tonight but us, so just calm the fuck down alright?" Mark said, scooting to the edge of the couch and watching Pete, glancing at his hands and then back to his eyes. 

Pete backed up through the lounge and straight into the bathroom, shutting the door quickly and leaning against the sink, opening the bag carefully.  He felt like he was going to throw up and was wishing he had grabbed a bottle of vodka rather than a bottle of water. What if this was all a big joke and he was going to step out of the bathroom to everyone on the tour laughing at him.  What if he couldn't trust Mark? But, it was Mark... he would just tell everyone Mark forced him if he brought it up in front of everyone.  He carefully stripped his clothes off, changing and then looking at himself in the mirror, he picked up a comb, probably Joe's, and tried to make his hair look less like he hadn't showered in a few days.  He slowly opened the bathroom door and let out a loud, nervous sigh. 

"So?" Mark said, tilting his head towards the bathroom slightly, "Come here. Alright? It's just me. I promise.  Trust me." He said quietly, lacing his hands together in his lap and watching carefully. 

Pete stepped out of the bathroom, looking to Mark and then looking down immediately, blushing dark red seeing the plaid of the skirt he had on over his legs.  "I um..I haven't..Um.." Pete nervously started, rubbing the fabric between his fingers and slowly looking up.

"You look hot. Come here." Mark said with a growing smirk, letting his eyes graze over Pete's body, holding his hands out to Pete. 

Pete slowly started across to Mark, stumbling slightly and placing his hands in Mark's gently when he got to him, "I've never done this before." 

"Don't lie to me." Mark said with a slight growl in his voice, "You probably do this with everyone you tour with." 

Pete shook his head quickly, his mouth slightly open.  "No. I mean, I've done it by myself... but I've never... not with anyone else." He frowned a little, stepping closer to Mark. 

Mark's hands were on Pete's hip quicker than Pete realized what was happening.  He was straddling Mark's lap with the short skirt looking even shorter.  He swallowed hard, blushing slightly and looking down at himself in Mark's lap. "A-aren't you straight?" Pete choked out slowly looking up to meet Mark's eyes. 

Mark shrugged, rubbing his hands over his face and yawning lazily, "I do what I like." He explained plainly, "And at this exact moment, you are what I like." He nodded, pulling Pete further down into his lap and pushing his hips up against Pete slightly.


End file.
